


It’ll Come

by mix_kid_ao3



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Body Dysphoria, Chapter 7 has some big depressed trans vibes, Coming Out, Dysphoria, Gen, Gender Dysphoria, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Genderfluid Klaus Hargreeves, Klaus Uses Ve/Vir/Virs Pronouns, Lesbian Vanya Hargreeves, Non-Binary Klaus Hargreeves, Nonbinary Character, Nonbinary Number Five | The Boy (Umbrella Academy), Number Five | The Boy-centric, Sibling Bonding, Trans Klaus Hargreeves, Trans Number Five | The Boy (Umbrella Academy), Transphobia, but like, five hates the societal connotation of their body and what not, in a ‘this is weird’ way instead of the ‘I hate myself’ way
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-06-27 05:17:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19784020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mix_kid_ao3/pseuds/mix_kid_ao3
Summary: With the apocalypse adverted Five takes the time to really absorb the fact their body is thirteen. They don’t like it. And then there’s the matter of pronouns. Their siblings had assumed wrong.They’re just waiting until the right time.





	1. Weird

Five scrutinizes their reflection in the mirror, hands tracing every line as their eyes do.

The only word they can think to describe it is “weird”.

The most immediately noticeable difference between their real body and their thirteen-year-old used-to-be body is the eyes. Their eyes are tired, far too knowing to look right on a pre-teen. But still, they aren’t _their_ eyes. They’re just off, drooping slightly less than Five is used to. The wrongness is only accentuated by the lack of winged eye liner they had been using since they were sixteen. 

Five makes a mental note to find some in their spare time now that the apocalypse isn’t happening. Maybe they could make a day of it with Dolores, get both of them some new cosmetics, a couple outfits, and some good coffee.

Next is the skin. It’s too smooth, too young. Their wrinkles are gone and their sunspots have been erased. Five can’t help but feel a tiny bit robbed. It feels like their past has been stolen, the same way their future was stolen. But Five supposes they technically gave both away. The thought isn’t comforting.

Their height and hair bother them too. They’re both shorter now. Five has no doubts the few extra inches off their stature will come back over time, but they don’t like feeling small. Unimposing. Vulnerable.

The hair will take longer. Unlike height, hair doesn’t have a prime growing period. No surprise growth-spurts to be had there. In the days leading up to their return Five had been sporting a curled look similar to Grace’s, a little joke to themself about turning into their mother with age. Five smiles morosely at the thought. At least now Five can try out the undercut they always wanted.

On a more easily fixable note, they hate their clothes. The shorts fit in a disgustingly boxy way. Five hasn’t worn shorts since their late teens, when they were just starting to get comfortable with themself but were still too nervous to wear skirts full time. After over 30 years it feels strange to wear anything other than business attire. What they wouldn’t do for a pencil skirt of even just a blazer that actually fits.

Overall, Five feels disconnected from their current look. It‘s too young—too boyish. It makes their skin crawl.

They still haven’t told their siblings that they haven’t used he/him since they were 15. It’s hard, Five thinks. They’ve never had to come out, except maybe to Dolores. The Handler had already known when they met, meaning the rest of the Commission did as well, and it isn’t like Five was socializing with anyone else.

They let out a breath and lean farther over the bathroom counter to rest their head on folded hands. They’re 58 for fucks sake, they should be able to tell their family to use their pronouns. It’s not like they’ll hate Five for this, Klaus had been experimenting with she/her and e/em/eirs when they left. They’re not sure where Klaus ended up with that.

But then again their siblings don’t seem to particularly care about Klaus. Five doesn’t think they even realize Klaus was kidnapped, took a trip back in time, then came back with a tattoo and double the PTSD. Five doesn’t want that, they’ve spent too long without their siblings as it is.

Dolores thinks they should just come out and get it over with. She says it’s not healthy to keep avoiding the issue, especially when it feels like a punch to the gut every time. Allison makes a point of saying she’s so glad her little brother is back. Klaus says “bro” way too often when referring to them. Diego encourages them to wear “real guy-clothes”. The more it happens the more they wish their gross teen body could handle hard alcohol so they wouldn’t feel like screaming.

They decide to wait. The right time will come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can’t believe I have the meanest readers on AO3 y’all really are out here not telling me when I have typos so I come back to edit and feel like an absolute buffoon?? Were y'all really not going to tell me I’ve spelt Dolores wrong this entire goddamn time??? For shame


	2. Not Yet, Not Yet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some art I did of Klaus’ outfit in this chapter:  
> https://jumpandfall.tumblr.com/post/187087135901/since-yall-arent-making-fan-art-for-my-fic-ig

The longer Five waits, the more it seems like the Right Time might never come.

At first, they planned to come out through emails to their siblings who could be trusted to see one, and letters slipped in the pockets of those who couldn’t. Five scrapped the idea after they wrote the first letter. It felt cold, impersonal, like a company memo. They don’t want that kind of relationship with their siblings if it can be helped.

Later they thought they might come out durning Sunday brunch. It was the only time they could really guarantee all their siblings would be together and they would all be feeling pleasant enough after a meal from Grace to abet any anger at not being told sooner. As long as Diego and Luther didn’t break anything they’d be fine, and if their brothers did break something maybe it would take the spotlight off their coming out.

They tried to think it through rationally, to prepare themself for whatever outcome, but the more they rehearsed it the more anxiety they felt. Everything could go fine, they could come out and their siblings would take it in stride.Or, it could be a dumpster fire like everything else in their collective lives and Five would be treated like an outsider in their own home.

Regardless of their anxiety, they had picked a date and were determined to stick with it. Besides, they reasoned, it would be better to come out now rather than later.

Sunday came and with it, trouble.

The first sign that Sunday was not the Right Time, was that not all their siblings were there. Allison had cancelled last minute when Claire got sick. It was understandable and Five wasn’t mad at her for it, but still.

The whole point of coming out at brunch was that their siblings would be there.

Five had excused themself when Grace broke the news, retreating to one of the downstairs bathrooms. They paced—cutting a groove in a bar of soap with their nail in an attempt to avoid scratching at their skin—for as long as possible without worrying anyone. Diego knocked anyways.

They sat down just as Grace started bringing out the food. As always, the platters were made into cutsie faces and flowers. The familiarity calmed Five’s nerves just a bit.

It wasn’t long before the guise of camaraderie fell away. There were the usual squabbles between Luther and Diego, causing Vanya to stiffen, while Ben and Klaus had private conversations at the table’s end. Five distractedly reached for Vanya’s hand under the table.

Five had thought maybe they could get through it, maybe while everyone was cleaning up they could make a little announcement and they’d move on. They would accept it and Five would fill Allison in next time they saw each other.

Until Luther had to bring up Klaus’ choice in clothing.

It was a ridiculous outfit to be fair. Wearing neon pink thigh highs with neon green garters under a pleated black vinyl skirt, a powder pink mesh shirt, and the army vest Klaus hadn’t taken off since Vietnam it was a mess of colors and textures. The longer they looked the worse a headache bloomed in the back of their head. Still, it had been so undeniably Klaus that Five hadn’t thought to comment.

“—I can’t believe believe I have to call you my brother when you dress like that,” Luther had sneered.

Klaus just picked at the edge of one knee-high converse, disinterested. “I don’t ask you to, you know.”

Luther guffawed, “And what else am I supposed to call you? My sister?”

“If you wanted to,” Klaus had sighed back. Clearly this was a conversation they had gone through before. “It’s not like you don’t already call me worse when I’m in pants.”

Five’s chest had tightened, causing their breath to hitch. If Luther was ashamed of Klaus after all this time what would he think of Five? What would he say when he found out they liked kitten heels and sundresses? When they got their hands on some eyeliner and grew out their hair?

Five went quiet for the rest of the visit, taking in Luther’s disapproval and their siblings’ complacency. They had felt sick by the time the conversation shifted, a heavy weight in their stomach.

They helped pick up the dishes in silence. They couldn’t come out like this.

Five rolls over in bed, thinking about the Right Time.

It’ll come. It has to.


	3. Subtlety Is Key

After the brunch fiasco, Five reconsiders coming out at all. Would it not be easier to let their siblings live in ignorant bliss? Would it not have a more definite, safer, outcome? But Five has never been one to play it safe and this means too much to them. They just can’t find the words.

They entertain the idea staying in their room to avoid the constant misgendering. It would be nice, if a bit boring, just them and Delores. They could jump to the kitchen if they needed anything and jump back before anyone saw.

The only problem is Grace. She would knock on the door, and they wouldn’t be able to resist letting her in. She would stand on the threshold, posture inhumanly perfect, with a similarly perfect motherly demeanor. “Come down for breakfast dear, growing boys need their nutrients,” she would say.

It would hurt. Five would smile without feeling it, grit their teeth, and not say anything, but it would still hurt. Because she wouldn’t know she was wrong. She would just be trying to take care of them to the best of her programmed abilities and she would be so wrong.

Five can’t deal with that. Not right now.

In their head they debate staying out of the house instead, like Klaus used to when dad was in a bad mood, which was always. That would be nice too, to walk around and window shop with Delores like they used to.

Unfortunately, Five’s status as a thirteen year old makes it impossible to be out without “supervision”. Seeing a teen by themself is already a red flag for most people. Teens should be in groups, surrounded by either parents or other obnoxious adolescents. The fact they would be carrying half a mannequin around would only make it worse. They let out a long and suffering sign.

Five bangs their head on the pillow a few times, trying to shake free all the thoughts building up to give them a tension headache. It’s minimally effective. It mostly just gives Five a light sense of vertigo. 

In the process they catch glimpse of the clock in the dark. It’s early, 5:26am to be exact, but Five is wide awake. They sigh again and stretch out. Delores says they look like a cat and they tell her to fuck off. 

Since they’ve got nothing better to do so they get out of bed. Standing slowly, careful of a sensitive knee that doesn’t exist on this body, Five moves to the closet. It’s depressing really, a few academy uniforms hanging in storage bags and a mission uniform tucked in the corner. None of it looks good, much less feels right.

Regardless, it’s all they have at the moment. They’re too thin for their sisters’ skirts. They don’t have the hips to keep the skirts up and none of them have belt loops to accommodate.

Five remembers they used to be fine with the clothes given to them. They had more important things on their mind, like mastering their powers and being as defiant as they possible without ending up on dad’s bad side. The rebellion had been a mask for the growing disconnect between their mind and body, later identified as dysphoria.

Thinking of it makes the dysphoria rear it’s head, stirring in Five’s chest and leaving a bitter taste in their mouth. They move to find a minimally closet-smelling pair of clothes as quickly as possible, pretending they aren’t aware of every secondary sex trait they encounter along the way.

After pulling on their socks Five hesitates. Their shoes don’t fit how they’re supposed to, they walk more on heir toes than they did before making the grooves in the soles uncomfortable.

It’s only Grace in the mansion today.

They can’t wear anything of Vanya’s but maybe they could find a pair of Allison’s heels? At the very least a pair of Mary Jane flats. A tentative hope fills the space Five’s dysphoria had been occupying.

Five creeps out the door, making their way to Allison’s room on socked feet. Jumping would have been faster, but Five worries the light might have attracted Grace. That’s the last thing they want today.

The door is locked, as was to be expected. The master key is somewhere in dad’s office, some place Five has no desire to enter. Five slides to the decorative table next to Allison’s door and reaches their hand to feel around the inside of the rim. Klaus had always been paranoid, more so after getting familiarized with withdrawal, which made hiding bobby pins under every table and beside every door in the house sound rational.

This table doesn’t have a convenient grove to set the pins in so Five searches for where they know Klaus would have glued them on instead. When they find it they pick the glue off enough to pull them off, then scape them clean enough to pick Allison’s door. It takes a minute, Five unused to their body and its processes, but eventually the lock clicks and they’re in.

Five shuffles to the wardrobe, heart in their throat. They almost expect it not to open, for this to have all been for nothing. It does.

Five’s chest pangs as they see Allison’s skirts. Ignoring the feeling, they reach for a pair of Mary Janes and close the wardrobe harder than necessary.

Sitting on the floor, they pull the shoes on. They’re modest, black flats with a thick strap over the tops in an almost gender neutral style. The soles are hardly broken in, stiff and not quite new but perfect for Five. They smile to themself.

Five stands and spins like a child, giddy in a way they didn’t think shoes could make them. It makes their breath hitch for an entirely different reason.

They come to breakfast in Allison’s shoes. If Grace notices anything she doesn’t comment, instead handing them a plate of fruits arranged in a heart with toast on the side. There’s a side of whipped cream too.

Five had always had a sweet tooth before.

The day goes on uneventfully. No one sees them. No one comments on the shoes. Regardless, Five is more comfortable than they’ve been in weeks.

For once they don’t think about the Right Time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God ok so I wrote this on a plane and I finished it but I couldn’t post so I started working on the next chapter and I’m actually really excited for it bc this one has a scene I’ve wanted to write forever. This one was mostly filler but I know subtle personally affirmations in presentation can be EmotionalTM. 
> 
> TL;DR the next chapter is gonna be up real soon


	4. Klaus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter four babey!

Five is wearing Allison’s shoes, as they have been for the past few days, when Klaus shows up. They assume for drug money, but it turns out to be a social visit. Klaus has been sober increasingly often, trying to get in contact with Dave and work on keeping Ben corporeal for longer.

From what Klaus says it’s going well enough, but patience and Klaus are not words Five would ever put in a sentence together. Excluding “Klaus has no patience,” of course.

Five enjoys spending time like this, just talking. In their teens and everything after Five thinks they never just sat and talked with anyone.

The thought enters Five’s head without permission, makes a home and refuses to leave. They could tell Klaus, right here and right now. Klaus is easy enough to talk to, and Five doesn’t know much about Klaus’ adult life but they can assume Klaus has at least dabbled in queer spaces.

The thought has Five worrying the edge of their jacket between their fingers.

As the visit continues Five can’t help studying Klaus’ cracked nail polish. It’s a shiny magenta color today. Five thinks it was black on Sunday.

Klaus is wearing a women’s racer back now. It’s immodestly low cut what with Klaus not having the body type it was designed for, but it makes Five’s heart flutter just a bit.

The doubt suggests maybe Klaus doesn’t stick to gender roles but doesn’t believe there could be more than two genders. Exorsexism isn’t the most uncommon thing in the world, even in trans communities.

Still. Klaus has always been so removed from the binary.

Five chews their lips for a minute, contemplating. They can’t ask out right. It would be too obvious, and then Five would be out with little hope of mitigating the situation if it went sideways. No, that wouldn’t do at all. 

Instead, they go for something neutral. Something that gives them reasonable deniability.

“What are your pronouns?” They ask after confirming Ben has fucked off to who knows where.

Klaus looks surprised, eyes wide and posture suddenly straighter.

“That’s not a question I get asked nearly as often as I’d like,” Klaus says with more than a hint of wonderment. “Uh, anything is fine I guess. I prefer ve/vir but I know it’s like ultra hard for most people so I don’t exactly push it.”

The revelation hits Five like a breath hits a person drowning, sudden and sweet. “Then... should I not call you my brother?”

“I prefer sibling,” ve grins.

“Me too,” Five chokes. It feels like they’re admitting something terrible and wonderful at the same time, as incriminating as it is freeing.

Klaus’ eyes go impossibly wider. Ve stares, processing in the dear-in-headlights way ve does when ve’s re-evaluating a series of events. Five can’t help but wring their hands, anxiety building the longer it takes Klaus to react. They’re ready to brush it off, say ve must have misheard and take it all back when Klaus finally responds.

Ve’s beaming.

“That’s so awesome Five! What are your pronouns? What do you ID as—or do you not label it? Mad respect, I’m genderfluid with like a ton of nanogenders that change a lot so I don’t really pay attention to them. Ah, Five I’m so happy for you—”

Ve’s cut off by Five’s teary laughter. That’s just like Klaus, isn’t it? To babble off questions without taking a breath to hear the answers. They feel like an idiot for having thought Klaus wouldn’t be supportive. It takes them a minute to catch their breath.

“Uh, I’m somewhere along the lines of neutrois? My pronouns are they/them,” Five breathes.

Klaus smiles before an almost apologetic look crosses vir face. “I’d offer to take you shopping but I’m still high key broke.” Ve shrugs as if to say _what can you do?_

Five laughs again, cheeks starting to ache from how much they’re smiling. It’s a feeling of pure bliss.

For the rest of the visit they compare their experiences as nonbinary individuals. While Five makes an effort to partake in more feminine presentation Klaus wears anything ve finds cute. They had very different experiences in the 1960’s, though that’s to be expected when one only experienced the military culture of the time and the other only experienced New York civilian culture.

It’s something Five has never done before but finds they thoroughly enjoy. They’ve never just talked about their gender to another person before. It’s empowering. Validating.

It turns out this was the Perfect Time. Now if only they can recreate it six more times.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is so hard to write without using pronouns alfjdjsklaa. Idk if you noticed but I avoided pronouns for Klaus through the entire fic until it was confirmed ve uses ve/vir/virs. I picked ve/vir because when I was researching neopronouns to make the pronouns Klaus was experimenting with as a kid to see what worked chronologically I saw a bunch starting with v and I was struck by how removed from binary associations they are. 
> 
> Anyways if you couldn’t tell I have a big big love for neopronouns even though I don’t personally use them. 
> 
> I couldn’t settle on a label for Five so I kinda just pulled one out of a mental lottery. I knew it would be something neither male or female aligned but that’s still such a broad category.
> 
> Interestingly enough Five & Klaus wouldn’t come up so I had to type it out myself. I think that so wild bc they have solid enough dynamic? Like I know they’re not bff’s but still...
> 
> Any suggestions for how the next few chapters should go? I honestly don’t know how I’m going to write Allison or start the Vanya scene :/ Ben’s going to be a fucking nightmare to write for so many reasons


	5. Vanya

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I rewrote this entire chapter because I thought it felt stiff before, let me know if it’s better if you read it before?

Five is bored. They’ve been bored since the apocalypse was adverted. 

A few days in, they had resorted to sorting through Reginald’s notes, trying to fill in what they missed and find out what else he might have lied to them about. It’s dull work, and leaves a bad taste in their mouth. Disgust, they think. 

The notes are dehumanizing, clinical in the sense that the wording implies they were mere objects, measured by profit and efficiency. Their siblings deserve better. Five deserves better. 

There was one benefit to going through dad’s office. 

They find a red sharpie. It’s out of character; in the tomes of notes Five has gone through they’ve never seen anything but the smooth black ink of Reginald’s overpriced fountain pen. Vanya’s notes are similarly consistent in blue ink. They had assumed dad was above using sharpie. 

Five is absolutely is not above using a sharpie.

Five colors their nails bright red. It’s pointless, because it rubs off immediately and is absolutely not their color, but they enjoy themself for all of the five minutes it takes to finish. 

Unfortunately, five minutes is all the entertainment they get. 

They’re left to their own devices yet again and it’s torture. The house is too quiet, it was always loud before, and the quiet makes Five wonder whether they actually adverted the apocalypse or just changed it. If it weren’t for Grace, Five would think they were back in the post-apocalyptic empty. It doesn’t sit right. 

It makes them miss their siblings. Seven minimally supervised children would be loud in any context, seven superpowered children, one of whom drowned everything out with CD’s, another who often couldn’t be sure they weren’t hallucinating, one who almost never put their violin down, and two who were always fighting, made for a very noisy home. Five longs for Allison’s pop songs, Vanya’s music, and loud thumping upstairs they could safely assume was Diego and Luther in another brawl. 

Their bones hum, restless and on edge. It’s uncomfortable and they desperately feel like they should be moving, making, being. Most of all it’s inconvenient. 

Five huffs exasperatedly and drags themself out of Reginald’s office. They avoid stepping on darker tiles just for the hell of it. Grace is sitting in the parlor watching her paintings since there’s no work for her to be doing and Five waves to her as they pass. 

The kitchen is almost appealing, they could bake or cook, try a recipe they had learned in one of their more recent Commission jobs. It had been a longer mission, they were stuck waiting a week or so to gather intel and in their spare time a lovely aspiring pastry chef had been kind enough to show them a few things. Five feels guilty that the idea isn’t especially appealing at the moment. It feels like too much effort. 

Instead, they pace figure-eights in front of the bar, shooting longing glances at a bottle of tequila. They remember feeling the same yearning for alcohol right after they accepted that they were alone in the empty. Five’s days had been separated by when the liquor they were drinking ran out for longer than they care to admit. They need to get out of the house. 

Suddenly it hits them. 

Vanya’s orchestra is within walking distance. 

Five’s chest gives a flutter of excitement. They haven’t seen much of her since the apocalypse was adverted and they haven’t heard her play since they were thirteen. It’ll be nice, Five supposes, to catch up and soothe the all consuming restlessness they’re feeling. 

It turns out to be harder than they thought. Five only has a vague idea of where Vanya’s theater is and as such gets lost several times. Finding the place takes almost twice as long as it was supposed to, and finding which hall Vanya is practicing in takes just as excessive an amount of time. 

The company is in the midst of something loud and just nearing is crescendo when they walk in. It’s a dramatic song and Vanya looks more at ease than they’ve ever seen her. Five watches until everyone starts putting their instruments away then runs to meet Vanya on stage. 

“Five,” she greets, looking baffled. “What are you doing here?”

“Thought I’d drop by and watch. After all, I haven’t heard you play in thirty years.”

Passing musicians give them odd looks, most likely because Five looks like someone’s nephew at the moment and it was a private practice, but they brush it off. Instead, they ask Vanya about her life and her music and everything they’ve missed. 

The pair walks to Vanya’s apartment together, discussing the usual family drama. The building is unremarkable from the outside, and cramped on the inside. A lady stops them by Vanya’s door, asking about her cat, and it makes Five smile. 

The inside of Vanya’s apartment matches the rest of the building, stuffy and a bit run down, but the way Vanya’s decorated makes it feel comfortable, homey. It suits her. 

The longer they talk, the more animated Vanya becomes. She keeps her hands close to her body, never gesticulating too wildly, but her voice has more emotion than they thought she was capable of. She looks happier off her meds and Five can’t help but appreciate it. 

Five is explaining the circumstances of a rather enjoyable trip they took to 1950’s France when Vanya cuts them off, eyes darting nervously.

“Uh, I—I’ve been giving it some thought and...” she trails off. The pause lasts uncomfortably long but Five doesn’t stop her. “I think I’m a lesbian,” she finishes. 

Five’s eyes widen. They recognize the look on her face, uncertain and afraid. The tense in her shoulders looks the same as how they felt with Klaus just days before.

“Oh?” They prompt, giving her space. 

She breathes deep, going on through the process from her original uncertainty to her current sureness. Five holds her hand through it, and let’s her talk as long as she needs. They know how confusing it is, how painful it is to reject predefined ideas about yourself. 

Five had been in the empty two years before they started questioning the sense of _wrong_ they always felt, and two more passed before they were actually comfortable calling themself trans. Five explains as much to Vanya and she hugs them like they might disappear again. 

“So I’m nonbinary. And I use they/them. And I need new clothes,” they finish. 

Vanya laughs. “Nice. I’m not really sure what I can do about the clothes but I’ll keep the pronouns in mind,” she promises. 

Five can’t help but laugh back. Her simple, nondramatic answer is comfortable, it makes them feel _normal_. Her ability to not make things a big deal has always made her their favorite. 

They talk about less emotional topics for the rest of the evening. Vanya makes them peanut butter and marshmallow sandwiches for nostalgia’s sake but they both hate it. It reminds Five of twinkies and Vanya has long since outgrown her sweet tooth so Five ends up digging through her pantry until they find a box of Kraft mac and cheese. 

It’s domestic, and when the sun gets low Vanya walks them to the door. She promises to play for Five if they come over more and Five leaves looking forward to a next time. It’s nice. 

Finding a Right Time might not be as hard as they thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn’t figure out how I was going to make it convenient for Five and Vanya to both come out. I honestly don’t think I did the scene justice but I have to get it out of the way for the story to continue.
> 
> Edit: I think I figured it out? I threw in some more development while I was rewriting it so that’s fun. The line about Klaus not being sure if ve was hallucinating as a child hit hard ｡ﾟ(ﾟ´ω`ﾟ)ﾟ｡


	6. Allison

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I rewrote the last chapter so it would probably be helpful to go reread that.
> 
> Bit more graphic transphobia in this one, lots of exorsexism

This Sunday goes... better. 

For one, Allison is actually there, and for two, she brings Claire. 

Claire is smaller than Five pictured—based on Allison’s Type and her own height they had assumed her daughter would be relatively tall for her age—but she’s polite and has an adorable smile. They almost congratulate Allison on raising her but from what they’ve heard about the divorce she didn’t do all that great a job. 

Five lingers just outside the circle their siblings form around Claire, present but not going out of their way to get her attention. Children aren’t exactly their favorite, even if this one is cute. 

Allison introduces everyone and Five thinks they catch Luther wiping away tears when she calls him Claire’s uncle. Five bristles when she does the same in reference to them but refrains from commenting. Making a scene about it would only cause more problems. 

Claire basks in the attention. While Luther and Diego fight over who’s a better uncle Klaus, Vanya, and Ben nod along happily to whatever nonsense she’s garbling. Allison tries to convince Five to interact, but beyond saying hello they tell her they’re perfectly happy observing. 

Eventually “nana Grace” announces food is done and the Academy plus Claire files into the dining room. Aside from Diego’s absolutely decimated pride when Claire says Luther is her favorite uncle the meal goes by without issue. It’s a relatively tame event for this many Hargreeves in one place.

As the morning slips closer to noon their siblings leave for other obligations. By the time the clock rings twelve Allison is the only one yet to leave. Her subtle persistence has Five’s shoulders tensing in preparation for a conversation they’re not sure they want to have. 

The other shoe drops when she tells Claire to go explore the mansion, all soft tones and motherly encouragement. As soon as Claire is out of sight Allison turns to Five, softness gone and replaced with righteous annoyance. 

“You haven’t talked to Claire almost the entire time we’ve been here. What’s up with that?” She demands. 

It’s a fair question, they really haven’t talk to Claire. Five knows conclusions are bound to be drawn, and with their already removed personality those conclusions are bound to be taken as personal. In reality Five thinks Claire is an absolute darling, but Five is also aware that they‘ve killed people and that’s not the kind of person they would want to expose a kid to. 

Instead of unpacking their personal trauma Five deflects. “I told you, I’m just fine observing. She’s cute but I’m not exactly great with kids.”

“Oh bullshit!” Allison snaps. “You’re her uncle, act like it.”

“Don’t call me that.” Five sucks in a breath. 

They hadn’t meant to bring attention to it, not yet at least. The air is suddenly thick with tension. Allison goes through a series of expressions before she settles on pissed and Five is assessing the room’s entrances and exits before they can stop themself. 

“I know you did not just cut me off. And why wouldn’t you want to be caller her uncle, Five?” There’s venom in her tone and fire in her eyes, which does nothing for Five’s quickly building anxiety. 

“I just—” They struggle to find the words. “I just don’t like it, okay,” they snap.

There’s not enough air in the room and Five is desperately pinching the meat of their hand behind their back in time with the breathing exercises they’re fumbling through. Allison keeps getting closer, gesticulating far too emphatically for Five’s current situation, but they don’t say a word. 

“Then what the hell _do_ you want her to call you, Five?” 

Five doesn’t know. Even if they weren’t in the middle of a moderate panic attack Five isn’t sure there is a neutral term for your parent’s sibling. They don’t know and they tell her as much, they don’t know, just not uncle. Allison responds about how they expected her to, confused and no less angry. 

“What the fuck am I supposed to do with that, Five? She’s your niece and you’re so scared to have attachments you won’t talk to her or let her call you uncle?”

Five makes a noise they didn’t know they could, something pitchy from the throat. 

“No, no, no. This is—this is unrelated to that,” they stammer.

The way this conversation is going it seems Five might have to divulge their trauma anyway. Allison demands Five elaborate, just like they hoped she wouldn’t, and they do as best they can. 

“I don’t like gendered language.” Allison looks like she’s going to tell them that’s ridiculous, like there’s no such thing as non-gendered language before they rush to continue. “I use they/them and I prefer sibling instead of brother, that’s why I don’t want to be called uncle. Like I said, this has nothing to do with Claire.”

She balks like Five is spouting ludicrous and they get the vague impression she’s thinking they’re an especially difficult special snowflake. 

“I really don’t know what to say. Klaus mentioned being,” she pauses like she’s using a slur, “you know, nonbinary or whatever, once or twice but I thought that was just a Klaus thing. He’s always looking for attention like that. But you? It doesn’t make any sense, I don’t even know how to work ‘they’ into a sentence, it’s a plural pronoun.”

Five’s face stays impassive despite every word feeling like a knife twisting in their back. It’s fine, she’s just ignorant they tell themself. It doesn’t really work. 

“Klaus prefers ve/vir/virs.” Five gives a strained smile they’re sure comes off as predatory. 

“How is Claire supposed to know if I’m an adult and I can’t do it?” Allison raises her voice like this is an argument. 

Five sighs, hands separating to dig their nails into their thighs instead, and leans against the table. 

“You can, and so can she. It’s not that hard, ‘they are my sibling,’ ‘that’s their stuff,’ ‘have you seen them?’ You said it yourself; you’re an adult, figure it out. Unlike with Klaus this isn’t a polite request, this is me telling you.”

The anger is back, as if Five is the one being disrespectful here. She yells for Claire, giving a tight goodbye before turning on her heel. The door shuts louder than necessary and with it Five lets their mask fall. 

Their shoulders drop as they stumble to a chair. Five rubs at their face like they’re hoping they can rub off the feeling of rejection. It sticks to them, heavy and grimy, bringing up tears they refuse to let fall. 

Too late, Five realizes they didn’t have time to ask Allison not to tell anyone. Great. They out themself and now maybe Allison will out them to everyone else. Five laughs because it keeps the hopelessness from setting in as fast. 

This Sunday Allison came and she brought Claire. Five came out like they had planned to the first time but not. It’s better, but by no means good. 

When their back starts to hurt from sitting for so long Five ambles upstairs. They put Allison’s shoes back in her closet on the way to their room. They lay, reviewing the day’s events, getting stuck on how Allison had reacted every time. She was mad. She thought Five was being dramatic and it would be too hard on _her_. 

This was the wrong time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one took so long, like I said I don’t like writing Allison so I was having trouble and then I had to rewrite the last chapter too. The next one should be out quicker, apologies again <3
> 
> Also my TUA tumblr is 7sets-of-daddyissues if you’d like to come say hi


	7. Rejection is a Feeling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Made myself some fan art bc no one else was volunteering and I’m really emotionally invested in this narrative :) For future reference, do y’all like insta links or tumblr links bc I post on both and I’m not sure which is more accessible. 
> 
> Klaus’ outfit from chapter 2:  
> https://jumpandfall.tumblr.com/post/187087135901/since-yall-arent-making-fan-art-for-my-fic-ig
> 
> Five in some affirming clothes:  
> https://jumpandfall.tumblr.com/post/187131945911/trying-out-some-new-shading-styles-since-i-still

There are more consequences to coming out at the Wrong Time than dealing with transphobic relatives, Five learns. 

First, there’s the sleeplessness. They stay up recounting the events leading up to their outing and dissecting the event from every angle. If Five had just said this here, had better self control there, they wouldn’t be in this mess. They suppose Allison not being so self-involved could have helped too, but then she really wouldn’t be Allison, would she? 

When Five’s mind exhausts the topic they’re left with a restless static in its stead. They toss and turn until the sheets come off the corners and even then they can’t sleep. They think they started taking five minute blinks that turned into fifteen minute blinks that turned into thirty minute blinks around 4am, but when they actually fell asleep is mystery. Either way, they don’t wake up until after noon. 

Five recalls a few moments in which they weren’t really awake but might have had brief, mostly one sided conversations with Grace. They’ll have to apologize for that later. 

For now, Five has a headache to rival their worst hangovers and their body feels like a ball-jointed doll. A bone deep ache has them wishing they could stay in bed and the stiffness in their muscles makes getting up that much harder. A glance down reveals their arms are covered in red imprints from the sheets and a touch to their face assures Five it’s in no better condition. 

People say things are clearer in the sunlight but Five thinks they’re full of shit. In the sunlight Five remembers their sister’s face as she called them and their sibling attention seeking for preferring pronouns that weren’t assigned to them. In the sunlight Five is brutally aware of how it doesn’t matter how sweetly or demurely you ask, transphobes will always say you did it wrong. 

Rejection clings to Five’s skin like a spider’s web, making them want to stand under burning water and scrub until it’s gone—until their skin is raw there’s blood under their nails. They don’t though, because the thought of being naked right now makes Five physically nauseous. 

Instead they lay in bed, spiraling as they imagine passive aggressive comments in their siblings’ mouths and crumbling relationships. The hypothetical words cut almost as deep as the real ones, blurring until Five can’t tell the different between their siblings’ voices and their own internal dialogue. 

Five doesn’t move until the sun hangs low and the sky is red. They don’t feel any different than when they woke, excluding the added stiffness in their face, a side effect of the saline dried to their cheeks. Apathy has taken grief’s place, leaving Five hollow. 

Moving feels like more effort than it could possibly be worth, but the need for a shower has overcome their disgust with their body. Shuffling to the nearest full bathroom, Five realizes they haven’t eaten in over 24 hours. The hunger makes them overly aware of their body and only vaguely aware of their surroundings. A haze like smoke in their head makes everything feel weird. It all feels tingly and heavy, not quite theirs. 

Five doesn’t bother turning on the lights or undressing. They step into the water before it’s to temperature, leaning against the wall as cold water rains over them. As the cold soaks into their clothes the haze retreats marginally, leaving them more aware of the wall tiles and the grout between them than Five has ever cared to be. 

They still don’t care. There’s just nothing better to think of. 

As the temperature warms the thoughts return. It’s always going to be an up hill battle, always was. Even with only Delores and themself it had taken so long to be comfortable with themself. It would be so much easier to be cis, to just let their siblings think they were cis and to swallow their stupid discomfort. If not cis, then binary at least. Being a trans girl would at least mean Five could be put into a box. Even if people didn’t approve they would be able to understand. They wouldn’t have to keep explaining _no, I’m not a girl, no, I’m still not a boy, no, I’m not both_. 

Five just wants to be able to stop explaining and stop defending. They want to say “I’m not a boy,” and it be an inarguable fact. 

But that’s not how this works. They’ve spent too long questioning to not be sure. They’re neutrois, and they’re nonbinary, and they _only_ use they/them. They were comfortable before, at least with this part of themself, and they can get there again. They _will_ get there. 

The idea of losing people makes Five sick again, so they stand. The water has been hot for a long time now, so long that their fingers are soft and wrinkled. It makes them feel just a touch less hollow inside, reminding them of how their skin had looked before they went and fucked up the equations. 

They should have listened to Delores.

Five turns off the water and strips their drenched clothes. Their body is uncomfortable and foreign, feeling like a curse in a society where it defines them, but they do their best to appreciate it as a decent vessel for their consciousness. At least they don’t have allergies. 

Stepping out of the shower Five doesn’t feel any better than they did stepping in. They put the bare minimum of effort into drying off and, after a few half hearted pats with a towel to top, forego combing their hair. Five almost skips the entirety of their hygiene routine in favor of using so much lotion their skin would be shiny and going to bed, but by some miracle they manage to do the basics.

Getting dressed is a struggle, moving from where they’d sat on the floor while doing so and walking to the bed more so. Five collapses onto the bed, asleep before they can pull the blanket over themself. 

They don’t have the energy to worry right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recently found out that Delores is actually spelled Dolores, no I will not be changing it, I hate how the o version looks on paper.
> 
> I’m trying to get on at least a monthly update schedule so they should come out relatively consistently now ig???

**Author's Note:**

> Will there be a next chapter? I sure hope so.


End file.
